


Promises Made (Promises Kept)

by DobbyRocksSocks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Afterlife, Character Death, Guardian Angel, M/M, Oops?, Pain, Poor Bucky, Poor Sam, mostly happy ending, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 11:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20852669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Angel!AU. Disembodied voices are the worst conversationalists. Also... where did these wings come from?





	Promises Made (Promises Kept)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Someone_aka_Me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someone_aka_Me/gifts).

The half filled beer bottles were almost enough to send Sam running back for the bathroom to vomit, but he shoved them out of the way instead and slumped down at the kitchen table. 

“You look rough,” Riley said, grinning cheekily when Sam flipped him the bird and laid his head down on the table. “You going to be okay to fly today?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Sam replied, talking into his arms. “You need to feed me first though, or I’ll vomit mid flight and that won’t be pretty for anyone.” 

“You’re useless,” Riley said, shaking his head. “Why do I even put up with you?” 

“Because you love me. And also because you don’t have a choice.” 

“Latter sounds more accurate. Go and get a shower you lush, I’ll make your breakfast for when you get out.” 

“You’re a prince amongst men. Or even a king.” 

“Does that make you the joker?” 

Sam wanted to argue, he really did, but the state he was in… “Probably.” 

When he returned to the kitchen, feeling somewhat more human, he found two plates piled high with scrambled egg on toast and fresh orange juice on the table. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered, shaking his head. 

Riley just chuckled at him. “You won’t be saying that when I make you clean the bathroom when we get home from work.” 

“You’re not wrong, but for now, you’re the best.” 

They ate in silence for a while, Sam feeling better with every mouthful of food. 

“We’ve just got training today, right?” he asked, frowning when his beeper went off. 

Riley nodded, taking his own from his pocket. “Or not. We’ve got a rescue on. Are you sure you’re—” 

Sam nodded grimly. “I’m good, let’s go.” 

… 

It happened  _ so  _ fast. They’d saved the civilians, they’d done their job, and they were flying home. They were  _ supposed  _ to be safe. 

They were flying around each other, practically doing acrobatics in the air, laughing and cheering each other on. It was  _ normal _ . 

But then there was a bang. 

Riley was falling. 

Sam tried to catch him, he tried so hard, but his wings just weren’t fast enough. He flew too low, saw Riley hit the ground seconds before him, and he tried to pull himself up but it just

And then there was pain 

And then nothing. 

… 

Sam blinked his eyes open, and winced. It was  _ bright _ , dammit. He checked himself for injuries and frowned when he found nothing because he was pretty sure that he’d crash landed hard. 

Also, where the hell was Riley? And why was it so  _ bright _ , someone needed to turn the sun off or something. 

Finally, his eyes adjusted and he looked around, utterly bemused to find that everything was pure white. The ground, the air around him, it was like there was just… nothing. He must have hit his head even harder than he thought. 

But… where was the pain? 

He remembered there was pain. 

“Samuel Wilson. You have been chosen.” 

Sam looked around for the disembodied voice but found nothing. There was still nothing but whiteness and brightness and certainly nothing that would  _ talk  _ at him. 

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t wanna be chosen for whatever this is. Can I unsign up?” 

The brightness was fading, lowering to a more manageable level as Sam continued to look around. There was a strange haze of mist all around him now, and he stood up, not really sure of what he was supposed to do. 

He wondered if this was just a really strange dream, but then… he’d had strange dreams before. Hell, he’d dreamt that Riley was a strawberry once, begging Sam not to eat him. That had been strange. 

This was… different. 

And probably not in a good way. 

“You have been chosen,” said the voice again. 

“Um. Yeah. We covered that, Pal. Chosen for what exactly?” 

Again, there was no answer, and Sam huffed. Disembodied voices were clearly  _ terrible  _ conversationalists. 

A hand on his shoulder made him yell out, and he spun around and then stumbled back because why did that dude have wings? 

Not even metal wings, like Sam wore, but like… fluffy looking white things. That wasn’t… good. That was like… dead level heaven stuff, and Sam wasn’t ready to be dead yet, thank you very much. 

“You have been chosen, Samuel Wilson.” 

Sam blinked.

“I’ve heard that somewhere. What are…” he cut himself off, because asking someone what they were was probably rude. But then… “What are you?” 

“I am a guardian angel,” the man replied, his fluffy white wings_—_Sam couldn’t help but stare at them because wings were supposed to be silver and metal dammit—fluttering behind him. “And you, Samuel Wilson, have been chosen.” 

“Chosen for… are you going to eat me? I’m sure I saw a movie about that once before when I was in uni and—” 

“You have been chosen as my replacement.” 

“Oh. Well why didn’t you say so? Also, no thanks.” 

The…  _ angel…  _ simply looked at him. Sam shifted uncomfortably. Weren’t guardian angels supposed to be all… warm and friendly and, y’know, helpful?

“So… which way do I walk to get out of here?” he asked eventually, because the silence was awful and it was leaving Sam feeling unsettled. “Also, have you seen my friend Riley. He’s about my height, white, brown hair, blue eyes?” 

“There is no way out of here. You are to come with me.” 

The angel walked away, and Sam contemplated just staying right where he was, but the white was growing brighter and he really didn’t feel like his retina’s being burned out would be a good time. 

It felt very strange, walking when he couldn’t see the ground. Like he was going to fall every time he took a step. His stomach kept doing that weird jumping thing, as though he’d missed a step. All in all, this place really wasn’t getting a good rating on google. 

… 

“What the…” Sam looked around. He’d gone from being in neverending whiteness one moment, to being in a… it was like a valley. The light had faded to regular sunlight, making it easier to see, and he took a moment to take in his surroundings. On each side of him were mountains, and there was a river winding through the middle, the sound of water running music to Sam’s ears. 

He hadn’t realised how much the silence was getting to him until it was gone. 

The Angel perched on a rock by the riverside, and Sam approached him slowly. 

“It is your fate, to replace me, as I travel onto my next destiny,” the angel said, his voice soft but oddly loud. “You will meditate here with me in this place of wonder, and you will see your own destiny unfold.” 

“I really think you got the wrong guy,” Sam said, shuffling his foot against the glades of grass. “I don’t know why you think I’d make a good, uh, angel, but… I’m not the kind of influence you want over kids. I swear, I drink, I enjoy sex… oh my god, are angels like monks? Do you not have sex? Oh my god.” 

The angel stared at Sam for a long moment. His face twitched a couple of times, and then, unexpectedly, he started laughing. 

“No, Samuel Wilson, angels are not akin to monks, although given the necessity of death to be an angel, I believe your days of sex are over.” 

“I’m… not dead. I can’t be dead because… well. I’m walking and talking and… clearly still here. So. Not dead.” 

“You have ascended the earthly plain, Samuel. I am sorry to say that you are, in fact, dead. Had your destiny been to continue on to the next life, as many do, then you would have done so. Instead you are here with me. This is your fate, and we will remain here until you accept that.” 

“Am I being punk’d? Is this Riley’s fault?” 

“Ah, your friend Riley. He has, as was his destiny, gone on to the next life.” 

Sam rubbed a hand through his hair and then pulled at the ends of the short strands. Surely this had to be a dream, and he really wanted to wake up now. 

“Sit with me,” the angel said. “Meditate. If you are, as you say, not destined for this, then you will see nothing.” 

Sam looked around again, and then sighed to himself. Whatever the hell was going on… he didn’t have anything to lose, did he? 

… 

_ He was hiding.  _

_ Sam knew that, though he didn’t know why. There was something sad about the man, something lost and Sam wanted to reach out to him, to let him know he wasn’t alone.  _

_ Though… there was also something about the man that told Sam that would be a mistake.  _

_ Sam took a moment to take a proper look at the man, and he frowned when he realised he was wearing some kind of uniform, all black and silver with buckles and belts. It was… odd.  _

_ There was some kind of metal armour on his arm as well, odd in that it only covered his left arm.  _

_ A commotion sounded by the door, and Sam whirled around in time to see a group of people rush into the room, one of them spitting words in a language Sam didn’t know.  _

_ The change in the man Sam had been watching was immediate. He straightened up, and his eyes seemed to blank to… nothingness.  _

_ “Soldat!”  _

_ “Ready to comply,” the man said, his tone empty of emotion and Sam was left reeling. What in the hell has happened to this man?  _

_ …  _

“What… what the fuck was that?” Sam gasped, opening his eyes onto the valley. “Who was that man? What did those people do to him?” 

The angel smiled down at him from the rock. “That is for you to find out, Samuel, for he is your charge. Only you have the power to find and help him, and you must, for he is to be important.” 

“But no pressure,” Sam muttered. He stood up, frowning. “No, really, you need to tell me what’s going on here. I’m so… confused.” 

“You are strong, Samuel, and I understand why you are apprehensive. Guardian Angels have been around since the beginning of time, since the earth and heaven and hell came into being. We are there to guide those that will be important to the world, when it appears their destinies have gone off track. 

“You have been chosen because you are a good man. Your very soul is what matters in this, and yours is pure and true. You will do what must be done, not because you want to, but because it is who you are, deep inside.” 

Sam blinked. “Those are very pretty words that tell me literally nothing.” 

“You are scared. Tell me, Samuel, why are you scared?” 

“I… don’t know where I am. I don’t know who you are. I… either this is a really weird dream that I can’t wake up from, or I’m dead and… I really don’t want to be dead. At all. And… Riley has… gone on to his next life, you said? I need him in  _ my  _ life. He wouldn’t just… go on without me, that’s not how we work. We have each other’s back and you just… you’re just telling me he’s gone without me.” 

He was working himself up into a panic and he knew it but he also figured he had the right. If he was ever going to panic about anything in his life… this seemed like an appropriate time for it.He paced back and forth, trying to calm himself. 

“It was not a choice, it is the way of fate. You will see your friend again,” the angel said, and there was a kindness to him now that hadn’t been present before. “Of that, I can assure you. He will be there, when you fulfill this destiny. Your time together has not ended for good, it has merely been paused.” 

Sam just shook his head as he stopped pacing. This was too much and it couldn’t be real and yet in his heart he knew that it was. 

“What… what do I do now? How does this work?” 

“Follow your instincts,” the angel said. “You will know what to do and when to do it. You will understand your necessity when it arrives.” 

“That’s it? Really? Follow my instincts?” 

The angel smiled. “Follow your instincts.” 

In front of Sam’s eyes, he faded away, leaving Sam alone in the valley. “That was the most unhelpful,” he muttered, shaking his head. 

He looked around but he was very much alone in the valley. Sitting back down, he flopped onto his back and closed his eyes. 

Immediately, he was sucked back into the vision like haze and the valley faded around him. 

… 

_ He was in a lab of some kind, Sam thought. At first glance, he was alone and confused, but then he noticed the tube.  _

_ Why was… what the hell… was the man Sam was supposed to… guide… being frozen? What the hell?  _

_ A few people entered the room, and again, muttered to one another in a language Sam didn’t know. At best guess, he’d say Russian, but he wasn’t sure.  _

_ The ice in the tube seemed to melt, and the tube was opened.  _

_ Sam’s man… he really needed to find out his name… opened his eyes. There was pain in them unlike anything Sam had ever seen before and it took his breath away for a moment.  _

_ And then the man looked right at Sam.  _

_ And he whispered, “help me.”  _

_ …  _

“Jesus Christ,” Sam muttered, opening his eyes onto the valley once more. He forced himself onto his feet, almost overbalancing himself for a moment, and moved towards the river. 

He needed a drink, and with no vending machine in sight, he supposed the river water would have to do. He scooped it in his hands and washed his face with it first, the cold water wonderful on his skin. He was about to take a drink when he realised what he was seeing in the water. 

His reflection was… holy fuck. 

He quickly stood up and spun, trying to get a look at the  _ fluffy wings  _ on his back. His weren’t white, they were more of a periwinkle, which was… but then he realised that he must look like a dog chasing its tail and he stopped to laugh at himself for a moment. 

He was losing his mind. 

Looking back to the water, he took a closer look at the wings in his reflection. They were… pretty. Nothing like the wings he was used to adorning his back, of course, but… pretty all the same. 

Using his hands as a scoop once more, he drank deeply. The water was refreshing, but… it wasn’t beer. 

He was pretty sure he would—not kill, he was an angel now—hurt someone for a beer. 

A lot. 

… 

_ “Ready to comply.”  _

_ The words sent a shiver down Sam’s spine, and he watched on as the man walked towards a building with purpose. Sam followed along, unsure what else to do, but he soon wished that he hadn’t.  _

_ Not that he really thought he had a choice.  _

_ The scene was a bloodbath in minutes, and not a single one of the men fighting against Sam’s man had a chance against him. Even when a bullet pierced his right arm, he didn’t react. He just… carried on.  _

_ Sam didn’t know what to think. When everyone else was dead, and only Sam’s man was left standing in the room, Sam approached him slowly.  _

_ He didn’t seem to see Sam this time, but when Sam hesitantly reached out, and clasped the top of his shoulder, a full body shudder ran through him beneath Sam’s touch and he slumped slightly.  _

_ “Bucky. I’m Bucky. Not… not soldat. Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”  _

_ The same russian man from Sam’s previous vision stepped into the room, and the same pattern of words was said once more.  _

_ ‘Bucky’ turned back into the empty man he’d been before, and Sam blinked. Before he could reach out to touch him again, the vision faded out.  _

… 

Swallowing hard, Sam stared up at the mountains. The grass tickled his neck but he ignored it. This man, whether it be Bucky Barnes or not, he needed Sam’s help. 

It could have been minutes, or hours or days, but visions were running into each other and Sam had seen him go through so much. 

He’d seen him fight, and murder and fight some more. He’d seen him kill with no feeling, under orders. He’d seen him tortured in a chair, and seen him fight against those who were keeping him. Sam had no idea how old the man was, or how long he’d been… brainwashed, but he knew that one way or another, he had to help him. 

The thought crossed Sam’s mind that this could be the Bucky Barnes from history, Captain America’s daring sidekick, but that was… impossible. 

Wasn’t it? 

The pain that Sam had seen in his eyes though… no human should have have that. Nobody should be that shrouded in guilt and loss, and nobody should be forced into such unspeakable things without a choice. 

Sam didn’t know how the man was still living, though in one vision, Sam  _ had  _ seen the man try to change that. It hadn’t worked, and as bad as Sam felt for him, he couldn’t help but be glad for that. 

Sometimes, the man could see Sam, which was baffling in it’s own right, because if Sam was an angel, surely he shouldn’t be known? He didn’t even want to try and get his head around that, to be honest. The whole thing was mind-fuckery at its absolute best—or worst, depending on your point of view. 

Sam only really know one thing for sure. He had to find this man, and he had to get him to safety. 

As that thought solidified in his mind, he felt a tugging in his navel, and then he was falling through the air. 

...

He landed with a thump, though there was no pain. He was in a… forest? Odd. It was definitely very… tree-y. Standing up, Sam brushed the leaves from his trousers and looked around. His wings were still most definitely on his back, the periwinkle fluff of them bright in the semi-darkness. 

Did that mean he was invisible to other people? 

Surely if there were guardian angels walking around the place with their wings flapping, someone would notice them? 

At this point though, the better question was what the hell was he doing here? He’d expected to land in some random lab somewhere when he’d started falling, so this was… strange. 

Movement behind him caught his attention, and he turned to find himself standing face to face with the man from his visions. 

He was wearing his mask, but Sam thought that he’d recognise him anywhere. The pain in his eyes was more than he’d seen in any other person’s eyes ever. 

“I’ve seen you.” 

That was Sam’s only warning before he felt a solid, armoured fist against his face, followed quickly be a second and then a third. While he registered the contact, it didn’t  _ hurt.  _

Finally, a silver lining to this angel schtick, Sam supposed. 

He took the punches, took the anger from the man until he finally stopped and stared at Sam. 

“What  _ are  _ you?” 

“I’m Sam,” Sam replied, wrinkling his face. It felt… misshapen and he was really very glad that there were no reflective surfaces because if that was the case… ew. “I’m your guardian angel.” 

The man’s eyes widened before he let out a hard laugh that held no humor whatsoever. “A guardian angel? Me? Are you… you’ve got to be joking.” 

“Hey. I’m new to the job,” Sam defended himself. “You… I was expecting you to be. Uh. Blank. I’ve seen you, in visions. What they do to you—” 

The man flinched. 

“It’s awful,” Sam finished. “But you’re… you right now. Right?” 

“I don’t know who… me… is,” the man admitted. 

Sam sighed. “You said a name once. When I touched you. Bucky Barnes.” 

The man blinked slowly, regarding Sam with equal measures of distrust and guarded hope. 

“Bucky,” he whispered, almost testing it out against his tongue. “I’m Bucky. Bucky Barnes.” 

Sam nodded. “Good enough for now. I, uh. Well. They don’t normally leave you alone for long, so… I assume you, uh, I assume they’re looking for you?” 

Bucky nodded.

“You got somewhere safe to be?” Sam asked, heart sinking when Bucky shook his head. 

“Uh. Okay. So, we’re doing this on the fly. Let’s go then.” 

“Go? Go where?” 

“Well. The guy who gave me this gig told me to follow my instincts, and my instincts say that we need to get the hell out of here. So. Let’s go.” 

Bucky hesitated for a moment before he nodded and fell into step beside Sam. “What’s… what’s with the wings?” 

Sam shrugged. “Part of the angel thing, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t think anyone else can see me, but like I said, this is my first job so… you know about as much as I do about this.” 

Bucky nodded and fell silent. Sam’s face was still twitching strangely, and he reached up to touch it. His cheeks felt swollen, and his nose definitely hadn’t been that shape the last time he’d looked in the mirror. Gross. 

“I, uh. I’m sorry I mangled your face.” 

Sam choked on a laugh and then shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll fix itself. Probably.” 

… 

They holed up in a cave. 

“This is… this is terribly uncomfortable. Are you okay?” Sam asked, eyeing the way Bucky was sitting against the wall of the cave, clearly on guard. 

He shrugged in reply and didn’t answer. 

“I… can I touch you?” Sam asked. 

“Why?” 

“It… seemed to help? In the vision I had. I wondered if… well. I wondered if it would help you.” 

Sam reached out slowly to touch Bucky’s left arm, and Bucky shifted, twitching away. “I wouldn’t feel anything there. It’s uh. That arm is metal. I have no feeling in it.” 

“That’s not just armour?” 

Bucky shook his head. “No.” 

Sam moved to the opposite side, and carefully, cautiously, touched his right shoulder instead. Bucky flinched away from him, but then pushed into the contact, holding his hands to his head. 

“You… you make my head… not so cloudy.” 

“That’s a good thing, right?” 

“I. I don’t know.” 

“Do you want me to let go?” 

Bucky shook his head. “No. I. No.” 

Sam stayed where he was, shifting into a more comfortable position. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next, but for now, Bucky was safe. 

That was something at least. 

… 

“We need somewhere to lay low,” Sam said, the following morning. “But the angel who told me I was coming to help you didn’t give me a bank card, so I’m not sure how—” 

“I can get us somewhere,” Bucky said quietly. 

Sam stared at him for a long moment. “If you’re sure. Uh. Where are we right now?” 

“Canada. Ontario.” 

“Huh. I expected more snow.” 

“It’s April.” 

“It’s… what? It can’t be.” 

“It’s April.” 

“Of… what year?” 

“2012.”

Sam’s stomach swooped, and he fell back against the wall. 

“What is it?” Bucky asked, frowning. 

“I’ve… I’ve been dead for almost two years. I don’t… I didn’t think…” Sam shook his head. “I didn’t realise, I guess.” 

“Uh. Are you… okay?” 

“I need… I need internet access. I need to see. I… need to know.” 

… 

Bucky found them a place. Sam didn’t ask, floating behind him, his mind on the information Bucky had managed to find in the public library. 

There were photos of him and Riley in a news article about their deaths. A tragic accident, it said. Numbly, Sam had had Bucky check up on his mum and sisters as best he could, but… 

There was an ache in his chest that he couldn’t fight. He’d been so focused on Bucky, both through the visions and then when they’d met, that he hadn’t even thought about… 

He was  _ dead.  _

_ Riley  _ was dead. 

He didn’t realise he was crying until Bucky awkwardly offered him a tissue. Sam took it, forcing a smile, and looked around the apartment. It was tiny, but it was certainly a mile better than the cave they’d been stuck in the previous night. 

“They’ll still find me eventually, you know,” Bucky muttered. 

“Well, we’ll deal with that when it comes. We should get you some food sorted.” 

“Do you… not eat?” 

Sam paused. “I… can. I think. But I don't need to. I think.” 

Bucky snorted. 

… 

“I, uh. Can I try something?” Sam asked, a few nights later. 

Bucky startled, apparently deep in thought. “What?” 

“I… I think. I think I can help you… remember.” 

Bucky stared at him for a long moment. “I’m not sure I want to.” 

“I think you need too,” Sam replied softly. “I think… I think it’s part of the reason I’m here. To guide your memories. To help you deal with them. To prepare you for… whatever it is that you’re supposed to do.” 

Bucky didn’t answer immediately, and Sam backed off, realising that Bucky needed a minute. In fairness, he’d been taking the whole guardian angel thing pretty well. Sam wasn’t sure how he would have taken a dude turning up with periwinkle wings telling him he was his guardian angel. 

“What… do I need to do?” 

“I think I need to, uh. Meditate. But… I need to be touching you. I think I can push the blocks on your memory away. I don’t… brain science was never my hobby, you know? I just… I feel like it's what I need to do so.” 

Bucky nodded cautiously. “I… okay. I think… I think I’m ready.” 

Sam nodded, gesturing Bucky to lie down on the sofa. Sam sat on the floor beside him and pressed a handle gently on his head, stroking the hair back once before he let his hand rest on Bucky’s forehead. 

He closed his eyes and fell forwards, his mind suddenly full of the man beneath his fingers. Each memory brought more pain, and Sam took it all, his muscles tensing as he fought to keep his hand still on Bucky’s head. 

The man was shifting beneath his touch, but Sam continued. 

Just when he thought that he couldn’t take anymore, different memories appeared. They were filled with the fatigues of Army training, and Sam recognised Captain America. Older memories appeared, filled with a skinny boy with blonde hair and young girls, and a harassed woman telling Bucky off for being late home. Sam caught a glance of a flying car and a flyer for the Stark Expo, and he realised that Bucky was actually most definitely the one from the Captain America comics. 

These memories were mostly happy, though they seemed tinged with a bitterness and longing that Sam slowly realised was coming from Bucky now, as he viewed these memories along with Sam. 

When Sam slowly pulled away, he met Bucky’s eyes. 

There was a brief pause of nothing, and then Bucky was in his arms, sobbing into his neck for everything he’d remembered. 

Everything he’d lost. 

Sam held him close, rocking him slowly. 

He hated that there was little else he could do. 

… 

“It’s pretty awesome that they’ve managed to make another Captain America,” Sam commented, staring at the television with wide eyes. “He even looks like him.” 

The two of them had been glued to the tv since the alert of the  _ alien  _ attack on New York—yeah, you heard him right,  _ aliens _ —and Sam couldn’t help but notice that Bucky seemed especially interested in Captain America. 

Understandable, he supposed, given that he’d grown up with the original. 

“That’s… that’s not a new Captain America,” Bucky said quietly, sounding oddly choked. 

Sam frowned. “It has to be. Cap went down into the ice with the plane. There’s no way he’s still—” 

“It’s not impossible,” Bucky said. “Look at me. I shouldn’t be here either and yet. Here I am. Because of Cryo. And the knock off serum.” 

“Buck—” 

“That’s Steve Rogers,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “He’s the original and he’s… he’s alive. He’s been alive.” 

Sam didn’t know what to say. Bucky was practically radiating pain, but when Sam reached out to him, he flinched away, shaking his head. Whatever pain he was currently feeling, he  _ wanted  _ to feel it. 

Sam curled up on his corner of the sofa and kept his eyes on the TV. 

He couldn’t fix this, and it didn’t feel good. 

“He said he was… with me til the end of the line,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair. “Guess… I guess he was following a different line.” 

… 

“You really wanna do this?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Bucky nodded and pulled his hood up, hiding his face as best he could. 

They’d travelled to DC, specifically for the purpose of visiting the museum, but Sam still wasn’t entirely convinced it was a good idea. 

It was also strange, being back where he’d lived before… before. 

Bucky walked into the Smithsonian and headed straight for the Captain America exhibit, Sam following behind him. Nobody but Bucky could see him, they’d worked that out pretty quickly in the library back in Ontario, so he could be there to support Bucky without awkward questions. 

Periwinkle wings would lead to awkward questions, Sam was sure of it.

Sam looked around with interest, keeping his eye on Bucky as he did. There was a lot of memorabilia, but Bucky seemed focused on a singular memorial. Sam gave him his privacy for a few minutes, giving him time to collect his thoughts. 

When he returned to Bucky’s side, he slipped his hand into Buckys, realising he was shaking slightly. 

“That’s… that’s me.” 

Sam looked at the memorial and nodded.  _ A fallen comrade.  _

“Yeah, Buck. That’s you.” 

A single tear slipped down Bucky’s cheek. “It’s me. Steve… he’s… He left me. He didn’t come back for me. He… I cried for him, Sam. I waited and I waited for him to come and save me like he did before and he… he never came. 

“They told me he’d died. Showed me the newspaper that announced it. He… he’s alive and he didn’t come for me.” 

“He… he probably didn’t realise,” Sam said slowly. “And, from what I can tell…. Buck, he spent seventy years in the ice. He wasn’t getting his jollies down the pub. He was frozen, lost, just like you.” 

“I want… I want to go,” Bucky admitted. “Can we just… can we just leave?” 

Sam nodded. He stayed by Bucky’s side on the way back through the museum, but his wings were… prickling. 

“Something’s wrong,” he said, looking around them. 

“I know,” Bucky whispered. “Hydra. At my six, eleven and four.” 

Sam winced but followed Bucky as he made his way out of the Museum. They were being followed, and Sam realised Bucky was heading away from the crowds. He seemed to be trying to minimise any collateral damage from the oncoming fight. 

Because there was no doubt that there would be a fight. 

Unless. 

“Buck,” he hissed. “Hold on to me.” 

Bucky frowned. “What?” 

“Hold on to me.” 

With the muscle memory of his time with the EXO-7 Falcon wings, Sam flapped his wings hard. For a moment, nothing happened, and Bucky spun to the side to avoid a bullet. 

Wincing, Sam put more effort into it and then

“Holy fuck.” 

Sam opened his eyes and realised that they’d left the floor. Bucky was clinging to Sam as they rose into the air, dodging the shots fired at them. 

Sam could only imagine what Bucky must look like, flying through the air holding onto something invisible. 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky repeated, but there was a laugh in his voice this time. “Holy fuck.” 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, breathlessly. “Apparently these wings aren’t just there to look pretty. Who knew?” 

… 

Sam was exhausted by the time they got to safety. The apartment in DC was even smaller than the one in Canada, but it made no difference to Sam. He flopped onto the sofa as soon as they were in, and Bucky prepared them tea and sandwiches. 

While Sam didn’t need to eat, it helped him regain his strength faster. They’d realised that after the meditation had taken it out of him. 

“I know my anger at Steve is irrational.” 

Sam accepted the mug and plate from Bucky. “Is it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t feel it though, and your feelings are valid, whatever they are.” 

“Are they?” 

“Of course they are,” Sam said. “If you feel it, it’s valid, Bucky. Doesn’t matter if its rational or not.” 

“How do I get over it? I mean… I assume I have to get over it?” 

“Do you?” 

Bucky shrugged. They were silent for a while while they ate, each of them in their own thoughts. Sam was thinking about the Hydra agents, and wondering what would happen if they got Bucky back. 

“I… I saw. In some of the visions, I saw someone speaking Russian to you. Always the same pattern of words. Are those… is that how they trigger the brainwashing?” 

Bucky nodded. “The Winter Soldier. He’s… what they turn me into. The most feared assassin in memory. I… I have so many victims. So many, Sam. I don’t… I don’t know how I’m ever going to make up for the things I’ve done.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

“It was me!” 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Sam replied softly. “I said it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t choose to fall from that train and you didn’t choose to kill those people. Hell, Bucky, I saw your memories. I saw how hard you fought against Hydra, long after most would be able too. What happened happened, and you can’t change that. You can only decide now what you do with the life you have.” 

“Is there… can you do something. With the triggers?” Bucky asked, head tilting slightly. “You gave me my life back, Sam. Can you give me my mind back?” 

Sam wasn’t sure. But. “I can try.” 

… 

Sam was panting by the time he was finished. Removing the triggers was so much harder than returning his memories, but as he fell back onto his hands, chest heaving, he knew he’d done it. 

Bucky stared at him, waiting, hopeful, and when Sam nodded, he gave him the most beautiful smile Sam had ever seen. 

Without warning, Bucky pushed off the sofa towards him, rolling them both onto the floor, his arms wrapped protectively under Sam’s head so it didn’t hit the floor. 

Bucky showed no hesitation when he pressed their lips together, and Sam, after a few seconds of utter shock, kissed him back. 

This was a bad idea. Terrible idea. Sam was  _ dead,  _ and that was only one reason why this was every version of fucked up, but he couldn’t stop himself from holding Bucky’s face in place gently as he carefully mapped out Bucky’s mouth with his tongue. 

When they parted, Bucky smiled down at Sam through hooded eyes. “Thank you. Thank you, Sam.” 

Sam wondered if the kiss had just been an exuberant show of gratitude. That was… sort of normal, he guessed. But then Bucky kissed him again and the thought left Sam’s mind. 

Nobody said thank you quite like that. 

“Sam. Sam, I want—” 

Sam shook his head gently. 

“You know it’s a bad idea,” he murmured. “I won’t be here forever.”

“I know,” Bucky admitted. “But… you’re here now. And you said… you said that it matters, what I decide to do with my life now. I don’t… I don’t want to regret not having you, even if I don’t get to keep you.” 

“Sweetheart—” 

“Please, Sam.” 

Sam swallowed hard and then nodded. “Okay. Okay. Whatever you want, Buck. I’m yours.” 

… 

“I need to contact him, don’t I?” Bucky asked a morning a few days later. They were sprawled in bed, Bucky’s head resting comfortably on Sam’s stomach. 

“Hmm?” 

“Steve. I need to. Let him know I’m… here. Alive.” 

“That’s up to you,” Sam said, stroking a hair through Bucky’s hair. 

“I should. I think… I think he’d want to know. I… I don’t think I’m angry at him anymore. I get it. He thought I was… it’s not his fault. What happened to me wasn’t because of him, it was Hydra.” 

“So. We’re heading for New York?” 

“I… yeah. Maybe tomorrow? Can we just… can we just take a day. I just need a day that’s not… I just want a day with you.” 

“I told you, Buck. Whatever you want.” 

Bucky smiled sadly. “I can’t always have what I want. You… you’re going to leave. I don’t want that to happen.” 

Sam lifted Bucky’s hand and pressed it to his mouth, kissing the palm. “Well, you want to take a day so. How about we enjoy it and leave the miserable stuff for tomorrow?” 

Bucky smiled. “Sounds perfect.” 

… 

Sam had expected it to be harder to convince the Avengers that Bucky was who he said he was. Then again, given Tony Stark's technology, perhaps it wasn’t so hard to believe. 

Bucky was tense all morning, but that was nothing to the way he’d frozen stiffly on the sofa when the door to the hotel room was pushed open. 

Tony walked in, looking casually intrigued, and he tilted his head when he saw Bucky. 

“Huh. Well, I’d say it’s not every day that a frozen super soldier turns up, but it’s starting to get more popular.” 

Bucky snorted. “I. Uh. I didn’t… I didn’t know who else to contact. I thought… well. I thought you’d be able to… ease Steve into the news?” 

“I don’t really ease things,” Tony admitted. “I’m curious though. How are you here?” 

Bucky told Tony his story stiltedly, trying to leave Sam out of it and failing miserable as he looked at the corner when Sam stood repeatedly. 

“Have you got an imaginary friend, or…?” Tony asked, looking at the corner. 

“Something like that. He… It sounds ridiculous. I have a guardian angel. He… he saved me. He helped fix me. He gave me… he gave me my life back.” 

“You think you sound ridiculous, but I spent last tuesday fighting giant octopi and then ate calamari because Barton has a sick sense of humour, so… probably not that weird.” 

Bucky stared at Tony for a long moment before he nodded. “Fair enough.” 

“So, you want me to bring Steve by? I haven’t told him anything about you yet but… you have to know he’s going to be so happy about this. He… he’s been struggling a little lately. Having you back… it’ll make him happy.” 

“You’re… the two of you are… close?” Bucky asked 

“Enough,” Tony replied with a shrug. “I… if I leave to get him, you’re not going to do a runner are you?” 

Bucky shook his head. “No. No, I won’t run. I’ll be here.” 

Tony nodded. “Then, I’ll fetch him. He… well. You know him better than I do, so you know that he’s probably going to sob all over you. Just… probably don’t kill him when he walks in and dives on you, okay?” 

Bucky’s lips tilted up in a smile. “I won’t. Uh. Thank you, Mr Stark.” 

“Tony is fine, we’re gonna be seeing each other I reckon. Especially if you decide to take me up on my offer to make you a new arm. I’m already horrified by that one and I haven’t even seen inside it yet.” 

“Um. What offer?” 

“The one I just made. See you soon, Buckster.” 

The door closed behind Tony, and Bucky turned back to Sam, who stepped forwards towards Bucky. 

He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew it was his time. It was like he could feel it in every cell of him, like something was pulling him away. 

He’s not ready for it, but then, he wonders if he ever would be. 

Bucky seemed to know too, if the way he was looking at Sam was any indication. 

“You’re… fading.” 

Sam smiled sadly, catching Bucky’s hand in his own when the other man reached out for him. Their connection felt weak, but it was still there. 

“I don’t want you to go.” 

“You’re going to be alright now, Buck,” Sam promised him. “Steve and the Avengers, they’re going to look after you, and you’re going to be…  _ magnificent _ .” 

“But I… I want you here. With me.” 

“It’s not the end, you know?” Sam offered. He stepped closer to Bucky, tugging him into a hug. “It’s just… a pause. I’ll be waiting for you, when it’s time for you to join me.” 

Bottom lip trembling slightly, Bucky nodded against Sam’s shoulder and then pulled back enough to look at him. “Promise?” 

“I promise. Look after yourself, okay? No doing stupid shit, just cause I’m not around to reprimand you. I’ll be writing it all down for a mega lecture, you hear me?” 

“I hear you. Promise you’ll be waiting?” 

“I promise.” 

Sam faded out, keeping his eyes on Bucky until all he could see was white. 

“Dammit with the brightness again. There’s gotta be an easier way to do this!” 

…

_ “Hey you.”  _

_ Bucky blinked heavily, his smile lazy when his gaze settled on Sam. “You’re here.” _

_ “I’m your guardian angel,” Sam said, nodding. “Wasn’t gonna let anyone else guide you when you needed it, was I?”  _

_ “You’re here to collect me?”  _

_ “I am. You did a good job, Buck. You’ve been so brave and so strong. Are you ready to come and relax with me awhile?”  _

_ Bucky nodded tiredly. “Been ready, Sam. You’re late.”  _

_ Sam shook his head. “I’m just on time. Come on, sweetheart,” he said, holding his hand out. “Come with me.”  _

_ Bucky didn’t hesitate to put his hand in Sam’s. “I missed you.”  _

_ “I missed you too.” _


End file.
